


Castle Dracula

by Beserk



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020), Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, M/M, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22665463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beserk/pseuds/Beserk
Summary: Just another AU, because the first episode really fucked up and we're all going to fix it together.
Relationships: Dracula/Jonathan Harker
Comments: 14
Kudos: 319





	1. Dracula Drinking

"It's going to be all right," Dracula whispered to the fevered young man shivering on the bed. He'd started losing his hair, his skin growing hard and cracked. There wasn't much life left in him anymore, enough blood for a few more nights, perhaps. "Just calm yourself, darling."

Shame, having him around had been such a treat. English was a wonderful language, and British mannerisms suited him, Dracula thought. And Johnny himself, Johnny himself was a delight. Such a smart boy, and so frightened. It was always enjoyable to scare and confuse. Perhaps Johnny would even stay, perhaps he won't die, but live on, as another bride.

It wasn't such a pleasant thought. Dracula thought of all his other brides, the ones who'd come before, of Elena, the only one he had at the moment. Beautiful Elena, who had been so lively, intelligent and fascinating in life, and had become such a disappointment since. Hunger, that's the only thing she ever seems to feel anymore. He didn't want to see Johnny hollowed out like that. It might be better for him to die and stay dead. At least then he'd make a nice corpse.

"It's-it's-" Johnny curled himself on the bed, pulling the covers over his body like a child. He looked rather tired, Dracula thought. Really. It wasn't as if he'd done much the past few weeks. "I don't-"

"Darling," Dracula hummed, resting a hand on Jonathan's cheek, moving his head so he could have better access to his neck. There was a familiar wound there, one created by tens of bites, night after night.

"N-no-" Johnny groaned, gasping as Dracula latched his fangs onto the flesh, forcing it open. Red blood spilled out, and Dracula sighed in appreciation. Oh, it was good, marvelous really. Johnny had delicious blood, and he barely fought Dracula anymore when he came to feed. He had no strength left for that, of course.

"Thank you, my dearest Johnny," Dracula whispered, licking Johnny's ear with his tongue, still reddened by Johnny's own blood. It stained Johnny's cracked skin, making Dracula suddenly miss how white and clean it had once been. He enjoyed outward beauty, and Johnny used to have it. Not anymore. "It was rather good."

"Are you going to kill me now?" Johnny whispered, but Dracula could tell he was half asleep, and wouldn't remember the next day anything that had happened in between them.

"You're going to die soon enough, Johnny," Dracula kissed his neck and stood up. "I really don't need to do anything."

"I want…I want you to kill me, please-"

Dracula raised an eyebrow, that was a first. He'd never had a bride beg for death before, only for life. He thought of Elena, the charming shepherd's daughter he'd found around fifty years earlier. She'd begged him to let her live, keep her alive. That was all she wanted, to live. Which then turned to the need to feed.

That was all she wanted now. But Johnny didn't want that, and would that make a difference?

He couldn’t wait to see.


	2. Elena

"I want more," Elena moaned as Dracula scooped the dead baby out of her box. "Please give me more."

"My apologies, love, but I don't have any more to give you."

"You're lying," Elena accurately accused. "You can get more, why don't you get me more?"

"What would be the point?" Dracula asked, genuinely curious. What possible reason did he have to feed Elena? It wasn't as if she was less boring when well fed. She was still looking for more food, even when she didn't need it.

"Please, hungry," Elena gasped.

Dracula tried not to be disappointed, given that he hadn't really been expecting a different response from the girl. Still…one could always hope.

"Yes, darling, I know, you've quite literally never anything but," Dracula waved a hand, preparing to leave.

"When are you going to bring your friend?"

He sighed, turning back to the inside of the box and placing his chin on his outstretched palm, "Now what _are_ you talking about?"

"I hear him walking around sometimes," Elena said, her black hair falling over her beautiful dark skin. She really was a beautiful girl, that was why he fed her enough to keep her in physical perfection. There was sometimes to be said about the enjoyment one could get from simply aesthetic pleasure. "He's scared."

"Ah, yes, I suppose he can be quite loud, can't he?" Dracula nodded solemnly. "Is he interrupting your slumber?"

"I just want a taste," Elena begged. "You only give me scraps; you only give me little humans-"

"Children, darling, they're called children."

"I want more! I need more, I need more!" Elena screeched, reaching out her clawed hand to slash at Dracula.

He grinned and grabbed her wrist, breaking it in two. Elena screamed in pain, collapsing back on the floor and cradling her broken limb.

"Calm yourself a bit, Elena," Dracula soothed, slamming the box closed. "It won't do you any good to have a fit now."

"I want him! I want more!" He could hear her screaming as he walked out of the room. "I want to drain him!"

*

"What did you, Elena?" Dracula's teeth were clenched together as he stumped into Johnny's bedroom. The man was lying on the bed, arms and legs outstretched. He wasn't breathing anymore, his chest entirely still. And Elena was laying on top of him, her fangs latched deep into his neck and her hands grasping his dirty white shirt (well, it had been white once).

Elena gasped, throwing her head backwards and exposing her long neck. Her lips were stained by Johnny's life-blood, eyes red and black.

"How did you get out of your box?" Dracula growled, grabbing Elena's neck and throwing her off of Johnny. He leaned over him and pushed his thinned hair out of his eyes. Johnny would have died soon, anyways, of course. But really. Elena had no right to take his life, that privilege belonged to Dracula and Dracula alone.

"That was so, so good," Elena cried, tears running down her face. Dracula sighed- wonderful, Elena was having an orgasm. As if he didn't have enough on his plate at the moment.

Elena trailed one of her hands under her skirt, gasping and groaning, hand moving up and down.

"Enough," Dracula snarled, grabbing Elena by the neck again and shaking her hard before throwing her against the wall, cracking it. "I asked you how you got out of your box."

"I learned how to a long time ago," Elena crawled on the floor back to him. "Please, please! Can I have just a bit more? Just a bit?"

"Yes, darling, I'll give you a bit more," Dracula told her. He walked over to the table, snapping one of the legs off.

"Really?" Elena smiled.

"Really," Dracula lied, stabbing her in the heart.

Elena's eyes widened, and she frowned, looking down at her chest. Then she opened her mouth, as though to speak, but then her eyes rolled backwards in her head and she collapsed on the floor.

"There," Dracula sighed, and looked down at Johnny's still body. "Well. And now we wait."


	3. The Finest Bride

When Jonathan had been ten, his mother had passed giving birth to his only sibling, a girl. She'd been named Margaret, and buried next to her mother two weeks later.

After the deaths, Jonathan's father had spent most of his days locked in his office, working and ignoring the boy. An elderly aunt had been brought to the household in order to keep an eye on Jonathan, but she'd spent most of the hours of the day sleeping, tired from the long life she had led before coming to live with the Harkers, and Jonathan had been left to his own devices most days.

Some days he stayed in his room, reading book after book until he fell asleep from exhaustion. Other days he wondered around the country mansion, slipping into his mother's old room and dancing around, pretending she was still there, dancing with him. Or he went ot the nursery, to look down at the empty crib and try to imagine how large Margaret would have been by then. But most days, he left the mansion and explored the forests beyond.

He hadn't been allowed out there, before his mother's death. When he'd asked, his mother would say, "No, Johnny, it's dangerous. We’ll go to the beach, if you wish. But not the forest."

Jonathan loved the beach, of course. Especially on those warm days when he and his friends, the sons of his mother's friends, could swim in the waters, splashing one another and laughing. The forest, though, he loved the forest even more. One never knew what the forest hid, what there was to find there. And Jonathan had always been a curious child.

"You're lucky he's so eager to learn," His tutor had told his mother and father once, when he thought Jonathan wasn't listening. "Because your son is not quick, Mrs. Harker."

"He doesn’t have to be," Jonathan's mother had replied, voice cold. "He's smart, and persistent, and that's what matters."

It was true. When Jonathan's mind became intrigued by a concept, by an answered question, he found it rather hard to let go. His father had once joked that it was a shame that Jonathan wasn't curious about whether or not there was a god.

"He would find the answer, that's for sure," Mr. Harker had said, making Mrs. Harker tut at his blasphemy. But Jonathan had preened at the praise. 

It wasn't the existence or nonexistence of god that excited Jonathan so, however. What he wanted to know was what was in the forest.

So, he went looking.

He didn't find anything for quite a long time. Every morning he'd leave the house, go wondering, and return in the evening in time to be tucked in by his distracted and grieving father. He found animals, and plant life, and even a small little river. But there was something else, and he knew it. He wanted to find it.

It took him two months to finally find what he was looking for.

He was walking in the forest, fingers trailing the trees and mind occupied by thoughts of his mother when he heard it. A whisper shimmering through the trees, calling to him.

"Little boy…"

He should have been scared, terrified really, should have run back to the mansion and collapsed into his father's protective embrace. His father, though, could not hug him and love him, mind and heart too stuck in the grave with his beloved wife. There was nothing to hide behind. It was better to move forward then.

"Sweet little boy…."

"Hello?" Jonathan moved a branch, following the voice. "Who's there?"

"I've been waiting for you…"

"Why-" Jonathan's voice died down as he stepped into a clearing in the trees. There was a woman sitting there, on a rock, in front of a raging fire. She was old, with white hair and a wrinkled face. Still, there was a clear strength in her as she threw branches into the fire, eyes locked onto Jonathan's own.

The woman smiled, thin pink lips curling upwards, and motioned Jonathan over with her head.

"Hello," Jonathan said- his mother had taught him manners. "I'm Jonathan Harker. What is your name?"

"I have none," The woman replied. "And I've been waiting for you, Johnny."

Jonathan chewed his lip as he sat down on the ground in front of the woman, "How do you know my name?"

The woman grabbed Jonathan's chin and pulled him closer, scanning him, "I told you, little boy. I've been waiting for you. I know you. I know what you'll become."

"Everyone says I'll be a lawyer," Johnny said promptly. His father was a lawyer- it was expected of him.

"And perhaps you will be," The woman shrugged, as if that did not matter much. "But you will be become something far more horrifying."

"What?" Jonathan whispered.

"You will be the bride of the devil."

Jonathan blinked, and then grinned, "I can't be a bride, I'm a boy. And the devil doesn't have a bride, anyways."

"The devil has many brides, boys and girls both. And you will be his bride, his finest, his greatest bride. And he shall love you as he loved none other."

"You're lying," Jonathan pushed the woman's hand away. "I won't belong to the devil. You're just being rather cruel, and you should stop it."

"You will," The woman said sadly. "And you must tame him. It will be your responsibility to do so, or the world will be lost. I am not being cruel, I must tell you. You must clam his wrath, stay by his side."

"I won't."

"You must," The woman told him. "Now wake up, Jonathan."

Gasping, Jonathan did. He shivered on the silk sheets as Dracula's fingers trailed down the cracked skin of his cheek.

"Johnny," Dracula whispered, voice laced with adoration. "My finest bride."


	4. The Birth of the Bride

**Twenty-Nine Years Earlier**

Dracula sighed, looking down at the dead body of his former bride with disappointment, his own weak as he stumbled around. He had hoped…well, to be fair, he always hoped. Despite the hundreds of disappointments, despite never once succeeding, Dracula still hoped.

And she had been so very beautiful, this one. If he could have hoped for one of them to succeed, this would have been the one he'd have wanted. Her black hair and white skin perfectly suited to bring out her sky-blue eyes, and her form was curved and form. She would have made a beautiful addition to his dead home.

"You make an attractive corpse, if nothing else-" Dracula's eyes widened as the words died on his tongue. He sighed deeply, rolling his eyes. "What an _Earth_ are you doing here?"

"I've come to talk," The witch stepped out of the shadows. She looked older then when Dracula had seen her last, her normally brown hair grey and thinning. She was near the middle of this life cycle.

"Haven't sacrificed any babies lately, Lavinia?" Dracula carefully sat down on a chair, looking up at Lavinia. "You're looking a little…warn out."

"And you as well, Dracula," Lavinia looked down at the dead bride on the floor. "I told you it would not work."

"And I told you, long ago, that I don't believe a word you say," Dracula sighed. "Not when you claim your intelligence comes from dreams."

"Visions, my devil friend," Lavinia said. "Not dreams."

"Ah. Visions, coming from…"

"There are some streams in the river of time too strong for anyone to fight against, some things none of us are strong enough to destroy. And I told you, you shall have your bride."

"Yes, you said my bride hasn't been born yet," Dracula rolled his eyes.

"Not anymore," Lavinia whispered. "Your bride has come into this world, a ray of sun created for you and you only. I saw the birth, the light that shone through the windows the moment the babe escaped the womb. Now your wait has come to an end, you may go searching for your bride. In England."

"Did you, perhaps, consume some special mushrooms before falling asleep?"

Lavinia rolled her eyes, "If you wish to ignore my warning, that is your choice. I cannot force you to travel to England, can I? Just remember your bride will only live for eighty or so years. If you miss your chance, and the bride dies, you will have nothing. For an eternity."

**Today**

"My finest bride," Dracula whispered. Johnny was looking around, perfect blue eyes filled with fear and confusion, no hunger to be seen. None of his other brides had ever wanted anything but food. Now the only thing left to see was whether he had any spirit and soul left.

"What did you do to me?" Jonathan gasped, trying to move. But he was still rather weak, and Dracula could keep him in place on the bed with a simple and rather delicate touch.

"Johnny, my darling, you are slow, not dumb. You know what I did to you."

"You killed me."

"Well aren't you a bright young lad," Dracula looked down at his bride. "Yes, that is what I did."

"Kill me," Johnny tried to throw Dracula off him. "Kill me, kill me please."

"I just did," Dracula smirked, getting up from the bed. Immediately, Johnny scrambled off of it, falling to the ground. "Johnny, you need to rest yet. You've only just-"

"She was just…" Johnny gasped, crawling on the floor. "Just an old, mad woman. She didn’t know, how could she have-"

Dracula frowned, "Pardon?"

"I don't understand-"

"You saw Lavinia? She came to you?" Dracula leaned down next to Johnny. "And you didn't come to me. I'm almost hurt, my sweet."

Johnny groaned.

"Well, I don't suppose it matters now, does it?" Dracula mused. "You're here, and you're going to stay with me forever."

And really, out of everything that had happened, _that_ was what made Johnny cry?


	5. Will You Drink?

If only the blood didn't smell so very good, if only it did not look so very appealing. If only Johnny could ignore the pain in his gut that made him feel as though his body was eating itself, being torn apart from within. If only he could shut himself in his own mind. If only, if only, if only.

"You must drink, my darling," Dracula whispered, his fingers running through Jonathan's nearly-gone hair. But Jonathan shook his head, he had enough strength for that, enough sanity to know he must not. Despite how delicious it smelled and looked, he knew he could not. "You must." 

"No, I cannot," Jonathan whimpered, curling into his blanket and shoving it above his head. It was childish, and inefficient as well. It did not stop the smell; nothing could stop the smell.

"Please, darling," If Jonathan didn't know any better, he would have thought there was a note of pleading in Dracula's tone. "It has been nearly a week. If you do not drink, you will become-"

"Like the brides?" Jonathan whispered. "And you'll lock me up in a box just as they're locked?"

"No, my lovely," Jonathan tried to push Dracula's hand away, but he was too weak for that. "You will become mad with hunger, a ghoul wondering the castle with no mind and no heart or soul."

Jonathan shivered, he could imagine that, and something told him that Dracula was telling the truth. But still, he could not force himself to drink the blood sitting in a goblet by the bed.

"Johnny," Dracula whispered into Jonathan's ear. "The blood belonged to an old, old farmer. He would have died any day now."

"That doesn’t make it better," Jonathan gasped, looking up, peering from behind the blanket, finding himself staring Dracula eye-to-eye. And he hadn’t been wrong, there was worry there. Dracula looked worried. The thought was about as mind numbingly terrifying as the thought of drinking blood was. That this creature, this monster, could feel something as human as worry. Feel it for Jonathan. "It's still a human, and I cannot feed on a human."

"Then pretend it's wine," Dracula suggested, and Jonathan's eyes widened in horror when the vampire pulled the blanket away and crawled into the bed, taking the goblet with him. He whimpered in panic when Dracula placed his arm around Jonathan's middle and pulled him up so his back was resting against Dracula's side. He tried to scramble away, but Dracula's arm tightened around him, keeping him in place. "It even rather looks like wine."

It didn't, and Jonathan glared at Dracula in response. Dracula sighed, bringing the goblet up to Jonathan's lips. Jonathan closed his eyes, shaking his head. Lord protect him, the smell…he wanted it, he wanted it so badly he was going to die.

"Perhaps you cannot pretend it's wine, but it's not a living human either," Dracula whispered, pressing his forehead against Jonathan's head.

"Please, I don't want to do this," Jonathan begged, though he knew there was hardly a point to it. There was nothing Dracula could for him now. He'd already been dammed; the only question was just how dammed he would be.

"I know darling," Dracula replied. "And you have no idea how special that makes you."

Jonathan swallowed, looking down at the beautiful blood, "Haven't there been anyone else who didn't want to drink blood?"

He could feel Dracula's lips curl against his skin, "Not a one. I told you, you are my finest bride."

"That's what she told me," Jonathan said softly. "The woman, she told me I'd be your finest bride."

"She was right," Dracula kissed the back of his head. "My finest bride. Will you drink?"

Jonathan took a deep breath and nodded.

"Thank you, love."

Jonathan closed his eyes and allowed the blood to slip past his lips.


End file.
